


Stitch Me Up

by CosmicallyLyss



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a song, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, How Do I Tag, I hope people like this, I might write another ship in a few days uwu, I need to stop tagging dammit, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Metaphors, Parallels, Soulmates, Too Many Metaphors, and that rarely happens, by Set It Off, i started writing this at 5am so please be kind, im still mad that soft smut isnt a tag, like it's really soft and not super graphic, seonghwangst, soft, soft smut, that isn't a tag??, that part also is way too metaphorical, their album midnight came out today and its really good please stan, this made me soft, those should both be tags, uwu, yeosangst, yet another seongsang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-20 17:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicallyLyss/pseuds/CosmicallyLyss
Summary: "Kang Yeosang’s feelings were trapped in a cage of thorns. He’d be punctured, stabbed by the own barbs of his self-denial if he tried to let any emotion out. For a glass boy, showing emotion made him weaker, made more spiderweb-like cracks bloom against his crystal skin. The thorns made sure that Yeosang’s feelings never surfaced, the thorns made the emotions subordinate.Park Seonghwa's feelings were trapped in a sickly sweet exterior. Honey and bubblegum, chocolate and caramel. Seemingly soft and innocent, but once it got out of control, it would spiral and cause aching pain. Showing emotion portrayed him as sweet, whereas inside he was sickly, his very soul being eaten away by his own duality. He hid his emotions behind a sugary facade, never allowing anyone to taste anything but."aka; my attempt at writing my first song!fic, inspired by Set It Off's Stitch Me Up, in which Yeosang is fragile and in love, and Seonghwa is delicate and infatuated. love will surface, and cherry blossom will meet bubble gum for the first of many times.





	Stitch Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing something like this!! I've never done songfic, and there aren't any dialogue scenes which is something I usually write. Plus there's like,, soft and not-so-explicit stuff and that's the first time I'm posting that kind of stuff so if I get feedback on how you guys liked this, I could delve into the more detailed explicit works heh
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this fic!! It was a lot of fun to write. Also listen to Stitch Me Up by Set It Off because it's really good uwu

_ No, it's no wonder I feel broken. _

 

Kang Yeosang lived trapped in a cage of glass. The shards so deadly, so transparent. Everyone could see inside, nothing was ever hidden. Was the cage he built trying to protect him from the world? Or did he put up his crystalline walls to protect the world from himself?

 

Kang Yeosang was a cage of glass. Fragile and so easily destroyed. One wrong move, a simple slip-up, and everything would shatter to the ground, the clamoring eventually diminishing to silence. His eyes shone on a daily basis, the shimmering salty water that welled in his eyes giving them that mythical glow.

 

Kang Yeosang’s feelings were trapped in a cage of thorns. He’d be punctured, stabbed by the own barbs of his self-denial if he tried to let any emotion out. For a glass boy, showing emotion made him weaker, made more spiderweb-like cracks bloom against his crystal skin. The thorns made sure that Yeosang’s feelings never surfaced, the thorns made the emotions subordinate.

 

Kang Yeosang was a cage of thorns. He’d attract everyone with his rosebud cheeks and cherry blossom lips, and he’d drive them away with the pinpricks he was surrounded by. Nobody would touch him in fear of leaving with hands decorated with strings of ruby-red.

 

In his own right, Yeosang was a Siren. Dripping with desire, enticing with ecstacy, fascinating with fallacy. He possessed the beauty and the charm to draw the unsuspecting passers-by into his graces, and they would leave - if they could - stuck with the shards of glass and edges of thorns that the boy was made up of.

 

In his own right, Yeosang was lonely. His heart beat like no other, his blood rushing in a way unbeknownst to other people. In a room of a thousand, sweaty bodies pressing against his glassy thorns, he would never feel more alone. He was a delicate ice sculpture in a world of careless firecrackers. The flamethrowers he lived around tried to shatter his glass, pluck his thorns, melt his ice.

 

In his own right, Yeosang was broken. Between his heart and his head lay a twisted and mangled map, the roads and right paths unclear. Between his thoughts and his words sat a vial of poison, lacing every phrase with a sickly sweet venom. Between his wants and his needs crossed fractured lines, blurring out any clarity the boy could have had.

 

But there was always one that knew Yeosang like no other. One that wasn’t scared of the gashes the broken glass could leave, one that was unphased by the pinpricks of blood that bloomed along his hands as a result of the thorns, one who would grip so tight to the ice to the point that the cold would burn him, all in the hopes of never letting the ice go.

 

_ Are you the one to fix me up, _

_ Patching up the work they done? _

_ Try and sew me. _

_ So thread the needle, tie it off. _

_ Teach me how to trust someone. _

 

Park Seonghwa. He was the only person Yeosang believed he could confide in. In the early hours of the morning when Yeosang’s demons would come out to play most often, dancing around in his tired head, Seonghwa would be there. He would water Yeosang’s roses and willingly get pricked by the thorns. He would rebuild Yeosang’s glass and sit complacently through the scratches the shards gave him. He would refreeze Yeosang’s ice, letting his lips turn blue before he stopped giving away all his heat to make himself cold enough for the boy.

 

Whenever the firecrackers got too close to Yeosang, Seonghwa would be there before the explosives had a chance to react. He would shelter the crystalline rose behind his own shield and take all the burns. He would walk away from the explosions with his platinum hair sticking damp to his head, knuckles and lips coated in crimson honey, eyes framed with clusters of violets. His golden skin would warp and bend and split, but he would do it ten times over, all for his boy of glass and thorns.

 

No matter the time of day, whether the sun was tinting Yeosang golden, or the moon was adorning his milky skin in silver, Seonghwa was there to make sure the light only ever touched him in the right way. Gently, with the proper sort of care. Seonghwa was the only one besides the light - which he of course controlled and guided - who knew how to touch Yeosang the right way. When his glass was on the verge of breaking, he needed soft and gentle. When his thorns were especially hardened, he needed them to be broken down.

 

Between Yeosang’s heart and head lay a twisted and mangled map. Seonghwa would spend all the time in the world unfolding and refolding the papers until they yellowed and grew soft at the edges. Between Yeosang’s thoughts and words sat a vial of poison. Seonghwa would drink it all up, his own thoughts and words turning the venom into an elixir of life, the insidious oily black turning as gold as Apollo’s sun chariot. Between Yeosang’s wants and needs crossed fractured lines. Seonghwa would bring anything he needed to reconnect those lines, wiping away at the blurry corners until they were crystal clear.

 

_ Really hoping that you stay, _

_ That you never walk away. _

_ Every word I shouldn't say, _

_ I shouldn't say, I shouldn't say it. _

 

Yeosang wouldn’t know what to do without Seonghwa. The boy was magnetic, constantly pulling on Yeosang and opening his soul in the most raw of ways. He had a way of stripping Yeosang of all his protections - he gently removed the glass, placing down each pane with care; he picked each rose and replanted them all for another time - and leaving him as just himself.

 

Yeosang was free with Seonghwa, in every sense of the word. Free of burden, free of body, free of spirit and mind. With Seonghwa by his side, Yeosang could confidently strut past the flamethrowers and grenades. The heat of their fire couldn’t sear him, the noise of their explosions couldn’t strike fear into him. The fire only gave Yeosang a glow, the tips of his dark brown hair styled by streaks of red-orange light. The noise only gave Yeosang a voice, no longer his Siren charms, but something that was entirely his own.

 

Yeosang was in love with Seonghwa, in every sense of the word. He couldn’t just settle for cuddling with the boy, using each other as blankets. Being wrapped inside Seonghwa’s embrace on a daily basis was like heaven, but Yeosang wanted more. He wanted euphoria. He had seen the way Seonghwa looked at certain points in the day. Just waking up, eyes opening for the first time that day. He would look at Yeosang with a smile so utterly angelic and a gaze so subtly sinful. Getting out of the shower and exiting the bathroom, steam billowing out from behind the door and enveloping the older boy in a translucent cloud, slightly obscuring the view of the snow white towel that hung low around his hips.

 

They would often come close to reaching the point Yeosang wanted to get to. The room would go as silent as the world once made Yeosang feel, and they would inch closer and closer together until their lips almost brushed. But before cherry blossom ever got the chance to meet bubble gum, one would pull away. And Yeosang’s glass would add layer upon layer, his thorns growing rapidly, clouding the boy from view. He would only ever whisper his secrets and desires in the dead of night. The stars would keep his secrets and fantasies written as constellations for Yeosang to look up to every night as he started to drift off, Seonghwa’s arms wrapped around his waist.

 

_ Do you feel the stress in me? _

_ Steady bursting at the seams? _

_ You're the only one I need _

_ To make me complete. _

 

There would always be days where Yeosang would get tense. Too tangled up in his own thorns, cut by his own splintered glass, and his own coat of ice would grow so cold it froze him to near death. His defenses would wear themselves down to almost nothing, and Yeosang almost went mental with how hard he tried to keep his emotions hidden. They were waiting to spill out and over the edges of Yeosang’s defenses, like tidal waves brought down on the shore of an unsuspecting village. They were waiting to wash away all the progress Yeosang had made in making himself believe that he could live without feeling. Of course, the only important part of ‘believe’ was its central ‘lie’, so it was difficult to tell how Yeosang truly thought he could live.

 

There would always be days where Seonghwa would be there to relieve Yeosang’s tensions. He’d run his hands along the smooth planes of Yeosang’s clothed back, letting the raindrops that fell from the boy’s eyes stain his shirt and covering him with his own body when the younger began to tremble and shake, the thunderclaps now affecting his rainstorm. When all Yeosang wanted to do was break, let his glass cage fall over him and cut into his skin, slicing the cruel lines of reality into his flesh, Seonghwa would give up his body to protect Yeosang from any harm the glass could bring. When all Yeosang wanted to do was shrink, his thorny vines growing around him, constricting his throat until the only think he could think of was the true pain that life could bring, Seonghwa would give his last breaths to Yeosang and break him out of the vicious cycle.

 

Yeosang needed Seonghwa like a flower needed sunlight - without the vital support, Yeosang would shrivel up, curl into himself and wither away with the warmth, the first signs of a winter chill bringing about his eternal end. All his life, he had lived as a kid ridiculed by others. They’d focus on his imperfections, how he was never the smartest kid in school. They’d mock him for his birthmark, using it as a template for blackened bruises. Everything Yeosang did was never enough, not for anyone, and it was when his glass truly started to form.

 

_ Stitch me up, stitch me up, _

_ Don't tear me apart. _

_ I've been stuck in a rut, _

_ Patched up in the dark. _

_ Stitch me up, stitch me up, _

_ There's pins in my heart. _

_ Pardon all my precious scars. _

 

Yeosang would break sometimes. It was inevitable, and when it happened, all other life seemed to halt. When Yeosang was broken, so was the nature of the world. Flowers would stop blooming, the winds would whistle in a desolate way, crying out for their glass boy, wishing for the power to heal his petal heart. The rain would fall, it would cry along with Yeosang. Just like Seonghwa’s shirt would become a collecting ground for Yeosang’s salty tears, the ground became saturated with rainwater, the runoff pooling around in abandoned spots of town, meandering aimlessly around cobblestone streets as Yeosang wandered around in his own mind, trying to find his way back to his own head.

 

The roses would wilt, the dewdrops on the morning grass would lose their luster, and branches of once mighty trees grew dry and snapped off, crashing to the ground. Which, of course, raised the age old question. If a tree fell in the forest with nobody around to hear it, was a sound ever made? The same applied for Yeosang. When he broke, when his glass and thorns fell away to nothingness, and he was alone, did his fall truly matter? In the grand scheme of things, did it ever happen?

 

Yeosang might not have thought it mattered, but to Seonghwa, when his best friend began to slip from springtime to harsh winter, Seonghwa was always determined to bring the sunshine back to Yeosang's eyes. To make the rosy flush of his cheeks regain their color, and to make his cherry blossom lips bloom again.

 

And maybe - just maybe - he wanted to be the one to make Yeosang bloom. To grow lilacs against the pale expanse of his neck and spread tulips across his skin. Yeosang lived trapped in a cage of glass, but Seonghwa was willing and wanting to shatter that prison.

 

_ No, it's no wonder you've been feeling _

_ Like a doll in lost and found: _

_ So mistreated, thrown around. _

 

Park Seonghwa lived trapped in the rays of sunshine. Overly optimistic, blinded by the harsh light. Giving his all and ending up burned, outside protection peeling away to leave raw openness vulnerable to the world. Was he just warmed by the heat? Or did it scald him past the point of return?

 

Park Seonghwa was the rays of sunshine. Bright, intense, watching over the earth. Look at it the wrong way, and it will destroy you without a sense of remorse. Bringing warmth to everything, pulling it into his clutches, before burning it all to ashes and covering the earth in a film of smoky gray.

 

Park Seonghwa's feelings were trapped in a sickly sweet exterior. Honey and bubblegum, chocolate and caramel. Seemingly soft and innocent, but once it got out of control, it would spiral and cause aching pain. Showing emotion portrayed him as sweet, whereas inside he was sickly, his very soul being eaten away by his own duality. He hid his emotions behind a sugary facade, never allowing anyone to taste anything but.

 

Park Seonghwa was sickly sweet. Charming on the outside, appealing to everyone who laid eyes on him. He radiated an aura like candy, enticing and desirous. Chocolate eyes, bubblegum lips, honey skin. Everyone wanted a piece, everyone craved more and more and more until all that was left was an empty wrapper. So he would draw them in, give them a teasing taste, and leave.

 

In his own right, Seonghwa was a doll. He made himself up to look plastic, to look fake, to look perfect. If the rest of the world saw him as flawless, maybe he could start to believe it himself. Fake didn't matter. As long as the end result was perfection, the journey was fruitless. The bleached blonde, the sunkissed skin, it was all to prove a point. That if he were styled to what others thought beauty was, he would consider himself beautiful.

 

In his own right, Seonghwa was mistreated. He did it to himself, he did it to numb himself from the pain the world brought. His sun would be clouded so often, that instead of breaking through the fog, he would let it embrace him, the tendrils curling around his brightness. He let toxicity surround him - he wanted the noxious fumes to block his light and poison his sugar. It was part of being sickly sweet - beautiful on the outside, the inside sinister, insidious.

 

In his own right, Seonghwa was shattered. Between his mind and eyes rested broken mirrors, distorting his vision and perception of even the most basic things - like himself. Between his heart and mouth sat a heavy stone, choking his sound and restricting his air, leaving him silent to the world. Between his thoughts and actions flew lead-tipped arrows, puncturing and poisoning each and every target.

 

But there was always one that knew Seonghwa better than he knew himself. One that reveled in the chances he got to burn away the plastic and leave only the sunlight and purity, leave only what was real. One who craved the sweetness and had a particular resistance to the ache of overexposure, devouring as much as he could. One who plucked the clouds from the sky and caught the rain in his hands to give the sun a chance to shine.

 

_ Who you kidding? _

_ Every flaw and every fray, _

_ That's what makes you sexy to me. _

 

Kang Yeosang. Seonghwa's angel, his flower boy, the one he knew had his back in any situation. The cause, problem, and outcome of a situation were all trivial, even negligible when Yeosang was there. On cloudy days when Seonghwa would taste only of bitter plasticine material, Yeosang would pick up the pieces, clean up the fallout. He would pick away at the plastic shell Seonghwa insisted on wrapping himself inside, he would take everything Seonghwa had to offer him with his overwhelming sweetness, he would reign in Seonghwa's sun from its infinite floating in the abyss of space and bring it back down to earth for the boy if he asked.

 

Whenever the weather of life turned too cold, freezing up the plastic, submerging the sun under wave upon wave of clouds, and making everything sweet turn cold to the touch, frostbitten and undesirable, Yeosang would be there to warm the earth all on his own. The world could get as cruel as it wanted, even going as far as to show how it could tear Seonghwa down in the blink of an eye. But Yeosang would be there to combat the forces of nature with his bare hands, red ribbons and dark purple cumulonimbus clouds dotting his cirrus cloud skin.

 

No matter the weather, whether or not it was scalding or unbearably cold, the heat making Seonghwa's senses boil or the cold making his blood freeze and clot, Yeosang was there to make sure that Seonghwa always fell back or rose up to regular, the normal caramel skin of his returning and no longer replaced by too light skin with a blue or red tint. It took a special hand to get Seonghwa to regulate - Yeosang's hand. The way it rubbed soothing circles along the boy's scorching or icy skin, either absorbing or releasing heat like it knew what to do on command. Yeosang was the person to bring Seonghwa back down to reality.

 

Between Seonghwa’s mind and eyes rested broken mirrors. Yeosang was accustomed to broken glass, and never had an issue with quietly piecing the mirrors back together. Between Seonghwa’s heart and mouth sat a heavy stone. Yeosang would chip away at the rock until it was nothing, leaving harmless dust in its wake. Between Seonghwa’s thoughts and actions flew lead-tipped arrows. Yeosang would direct the weaponry away from the light and make certain the poison plunged into anything that would try to shadow Seonghwa’s brightness.

 

_ Really hoping that I stay, _

_ I could never I could walk away. _

_ Every word we shouldn't say, _

_ We shouldn't say, we shouldn't say it. _

 

Seonghwa wouldn’t know what to do without Yeosang. The boy was grounding, bringing Seonghwa back to his senses, letting him slowly and carefully fall back from the atmosphere to the earth. He had a way of harnessing Seonghwa’s sun - absorbing the rays and painting the world golden with them. He could balance out the oversaturated sweetness in Seonghwa’s life - adding only the perfect flavor to complement what the older boy already had to offer to the world.

 

Seonghwa was liberated with Yeosang, in every sense of the word. He could float in the stratosphere among the clouds and raindrops all he wanted and have the knowledge that Yeosang would pull him back when he drifted too far from safety. The gazes that surrounded Seonghwa, the ones that tried to bruise his honey skin and taint his cotton candy lips were no more, not with Yeosang around. The clouds that tried to block out his sunlight no longer made his sun cower behind its blockade, instead his bright golden light shone through with a more intense glow, breaking through and bringing dawn.

 

Seonghwa was infatuated with Yeosang, in every sense of the word. Settling for just friendly touches wasn’t enough, he longed to fill his senses with the boy, cutting himself on the glass and trapping himself inside the thorns. Pulling the younger towards him whenever he desired to was a feeling out of this world, but Seonghwa wanted to take that feeling and escalate it to pure bliss. He knew the way Yeosang appeared at different points throughout the day. In the morning he’d glow, the sun reflecting off his glass. The afternoon would bring out his flowers, soft rose petals contrasting the thorny vines he wrapped around himself. And the night - Seonghwa’s favorite time to see him. Stars glowing in his dark eyes, the moon caressing his skin in a way Seonghwa longed to. The night would make him look ethereal, like an angel brought to earth, gracing mortal being with his heavenly presences. And of course, the times where Yeosang became the night itself, powerful and commanding of attention which Seonghwa always yearned to give him.

 

They would often approach the destination Seonghwa longed for. The clouds would break and the sky would lighten as both boys leaned closer, and mandevilla would be moments away from brushing strawberry. But as far in as they leaned, as close as their breaths got, the collision never came. Perhaps it was for the fact that both boys were petrified. Seonghwa’s sun would begin to shine so bright the world burned, and his secret desire for Yeosang would burn with it. He would only tell his secrets to the clouds when they covered him, knowing his whispered truths would be safe with the clouds as they dispersed. And laying on the grass, head resting against Yeosang’s chest, he was able to smile up at the clouds - both his shield and his prison.

 

_ Do you feel the stress in me? _

_ Steady bursting at the seams? _

_ You're the only one I need _

_ To make me complete. _

 

There would always be days where Seonghwa would shut down. Skin reddened and sore from a self-inflicted sunburn, mouth aching from an overdose of artificial sweetness, and the clouds bringing lightning and thunder to force Seonghwa further down the twisted path of his own thoughts. He would contemplate letting others that only wanted a small taste of him back into his life, consider giving away his bubble gum mouth for moments just so he could feel like he was wanted. If he could, he’d ask Yeosang to be the one he gave himself to - he was the only one Seonghwa truly wanted - but the prospect was too terrifying, so he would stick to his dreams. He would wonder whether or not it was worth trying to break past the wall of clouds that tried to block him out of the world. Maybe his light was too harsh. Instead of lighting up the world gently, it set the world on fire and destroyed everything it touched. Maybe he could get covered by the clouds until they overtook his being, shrouding his sun permanently.

 

There would always be days where Yeosang would spend his time making sure Seonghwa could reboot successfully. He’d reroute the wires in Seonghwa’s brain and coax the insecurities to fall from his strawberry lips, letting the boy fall apart in his arms. His chocolate eyes would fill with tears, and when they fell, they dripped down his honey skin sparkling like sugar. And when that happened, Yeosang was always there to dry the boy’s tears, to speak in soft whispers until Seonghwa once again believed that he didn’t need to sell himself to the criticizing eyes of others, that he was eventually going to break out from the prison the clouds held him inside once and for all. Yeosang would take all the burns the sun could give him in stride, only caring about bringing the sunshine smile back on Seonghwa’s face. Yeosang would willingly make himself sick from the overabundance of sweetness if it meant being able to balance Seonghwa out, regulating him to health.

 

Seonghwa needed Yeosang like the sun needed the moon - without the cycle that allowed the sun to rest and recharge, Seonghwa would burn forever, burning brighter and hotter and faster until he collapsed in a glorified supernova. All his life, he had been taught that those hungry for his berry lips were allowed to take a bite, but he was taught even more strictly that anyone like him - a boy - trying to take their share turned Seonghwa’s cherry mouth into forbidden fruit. Seonghwa had never let that happen. As much as he wanted to, the fear of being hated and mocked just for being himself was too great, and he was forced to settle for loveless interactions.

 

_ Stitch me up, stitch me up, _

_ Don't tear me apart. _

_ I've been stuck in a rut, _

_ Patched up in the dark. _

_ Stitch me up, stitch me up, _

_ There's pins in my heart. _

_ Pardon all my precious scars. _

 

Seonghwa would stop shining sometimes. It was unavoidable, and when it happened, the world grew impossibly darker. When Seonghwa’s light was gone, so was the universe’s. The clouds would turn the skies so gray it was as if they had no color at all, the stars would fail to come out at night, not wanting to show their face without their sunshine showing them how to brighten the night sky. The earth would grow cold without Seonghwa’s heat, and the days seemingly became shorter. Just like Yeosang’s soft whispers would comfort Seonghwa as he faded, the whistles of the wind would softly howl, whispering promises of better days to Seonghwa to convince him to shine once more.

 

The shadows would descend and the world would be covered in darkness. Like snow formed a soft and white blanket over the earth, fog would sweep across the ground, blanketing the world in something unexplainable, something sinister and gray. Was it for the best? There were people that hated the sun, that loved the rain and the darkness of night, so when the sun stopped shining, was that what more people wanted?

 

Seonghwa didn’t think it really mattered - all the sun did was burn people and cause droughts and fires - but to Yeosang, the world descending into darkness was the prequel to an apocalypse made him determined to bring the sunshine back to Seonghwa’s smile. To make his honey-like skin glow like before, soft and sweet.

 

And maybe - just maybe - he wanted to be the one to bring back Seonghwa’s light, his glow. To pull him from the depths of the shadows from his lips connected to his own. To make his honey skin rosy from his touch. Seonghwa lived shielded by storm clouds, but Yeosang was going to put up a ceaseless fight until the line of clouds broke and he got to see Seonghwa shine brighter than ever before.

 

_ Elegant and broken, _

_ Tasteful tattered clothing. _

_ I guess we've been caught in the middle of love. _

 

Being scared wasn’t worth it. Not pushing for what they wanted in fear of judgement was pointless. So it had happened one day. Late at night, the stars absent until Seonghwa’s sun came back, and the rain pouring as it cried for Yeosang’s flowers to bloom. Inside their shared room in their small apartment, wrapped in each other’s arms, they had decided they had been avoiding what they craved for far too long.

 

With each heavy exhale they released as they tried to regulate their breathing after having cried for hours, they inched closer and closer. Eyelashes wet and heavy from tears, eyes tinted red. At the same time they were broken, they were beautiful. And as their eyes fluttered shut, their lips meeting for the first time after years of craving this sort of touch from the other, sparks flew.

 

It was as if the world had an epiphany. The stars had blinked back to existence, and the rain faded to a drizzle before stopping completely. All that was left was a slightly illuminated silence. Neither of them wanted to pull away from the other, not when they had been putting this off for years. Hands found their way into hair, twisting in the strands and staying there as a silent promise of forever.

 

It was Yeosang who wanted to deepen the soft kiss, he who craved for more than just a sample of Seonghwa’s cotton candy mouth, and the older boy gave him all the access he wanted, lips parting for Yeosang and Yeosang alone. The younger had already been situated on Seonghwa’s lap - an earlier crying session had landed him the spot - and as he began to explore Seonghwa’s mouth, hearing the soft whines and pleas for more the other boy let out, his hips rolled forward. He inhaled sharply when he felt Seonghwa move up against him, a hot spark running down his back from the friction the action caused.

 

Yeosang leaned forwards, pushing against Seonghwa until they both fell back against the bed they had been sitting on, bouncing slightly from the mattress. Yeosang was holding himself up above Seonghwa, staring down at the older boy with adoration in his eyes. His mouth was parted slightly, lips as red as candy apples, his skin hot and flushed. The white sheets under his body made him look even more heavenly as they brought out the glow in his blonde hair. And looking up at Yeosang, Seonghwa felt like he was seeing what true beauty was for the first time. With his pupils blown wide, his dark hair sticking to his forehead from the small sheen of sweat that had built up over his skin, Yeosang looked like the night sky personified. Seonghwa’s hands made their way to the bottom of Yeosang’s charcoal black sweatshirt, tugging on it with a small whine. The dark-haired boy got the message instantly, sitting back on his heels to pull off his sweatshirt as quickly as possible before leaning back down and capturing Seonghwa’s lips once again, this time in a searing kiss.

 

Both boys’ hearts were racing, skin tingling at every bit of friction they managed to coerce from the other. When Seonghwa pulled Yeosang down against him, the younger threw his head back slightly, providing Seonghwa with the opportunity to do what he had longed for for ages. Connecting his mouth to Yeosang’s neck, he gently bit down on the skin, pouring all his love into the open mouthed kisses he placed against the bite marks. In his time licking and sucking at Yeosang’s skin, a garden had bloomed along all the areas Seonghwa had affected. A field of roses spread down Yeosang’s neck, dotted in places with clusters of wild violets, dark against the otherwise pale skin.

 

Yeosang’s hands were hot as they pushed under Seonghwa’s soft shirt, running up and down his chest and causing the blonde boy to shiver underneath him. With soft murmurs of  _ off, take it off _ , Seonghwa sat up slightly to remove the clothing, letting it fall somewhere on the floor. Whereas Yeosang was all quick, rushed movements, Seonghwa was slow, his pace languid. Both boys had a red flush spreading from their cheeks down their chests, the shade appearing like bouquets of tulips on Yeosang and a hundred sunsets on Seonghwa.

 

Seonghwa’s hands were pressed against Yeosang’s hips, gripping tightly, slight marks of his fingers imprinted on the bare skin. His fingertips dipped slowly down past the waistband of Yeosang’s sweatpants, a hushed question regarding permission preventing himself from delving further. When Yeosang nodded, a small  _ please  _ entering the room, Seonghwa’s heart swelled. Yeosang was convinced he could see the sunrise during the deep dark of midnight as Seonghwa grinned. The older boy pushed down the dark grey sweatpants and sat up to remove his own as Yeosang finished kicking his off.

 

They were both sitting up, the only thing separating them being one thin layer of clothing a piece. Their chests were heaving, blood running hot, pooling in their cheeks for a moment before traveling down their body. Just as the two were positioned before laying back against the bed, Yeosang climbed into Seonghwa’s lap, securing his legs around the other boy’s hips. Leaning down, he collided their lips together. As he rolled his hips against Seonghwa’s, repeating the action until he had worked up a steady pace, he took advantage of the older boy’s gasp to slip his tongue into his mouth. The soft moans and whines being swapped into each other’s mouths sounded like music to the boys, the harmony and melody blending perfectly to create a symphony of want.

 

_ Motive through emotion, _

_ Damaged but we're golden. _

_ I guess we've been caught in the middle of love. _

 

Hands found their way to waistbands, eyes meeting, hearts racing. It would stop here, or it would keep going. The glass would break and the sun would fade, or it would keep going. Low voices asking for more, begging for further access were answered by hushed and breathless confirmations. And now, no longer separated by fabric, breathing one another’s air, skin against skin, they had never felt so close. Slowly, in a way that was nothing except for tantalizing, Seonghwa reached down between them, hand outstretched. When his hand closed, Yeosang gasped, his eyes squeezing shut. Upon Seonghwa’s hand starting to move, slow and gradual as the sunrise, Yeosang shivered, hips subconsciously bucking up to try and get Seonghwa to quicken his pace. But it was to no avail. Seonghwa had pressed his lips against Yeosang’s in a kiss so intense it was almost bruising in an attempt to distract the boy from the almost torturous pace he had decided upon.

 

Yeosang could feel a coil of heat intensify in his stomach and voiced it to Seonghwa, whining when the movements around him were stilled. The older boy quietly took one of Yeosang’s hands from where it was clenching the sheets and brought it up to his mouth. Yeosang had sucked in a breath at the action, the implications of what was to come when Seonghwa wrapped his lips around Yeosang’s index finger sending a spike of heat throughout his body. Seonghwa’s breathing was heavy as he worked his tongue around Yeosang’s finger, coating the digit with the saliva building up inside his mouth. He looked up at Yeosang, dark eyes framed by his long, dark lashes. The dark haired boy could feel his heart rate quicken - there was the duality again. Seonghwa’s eyes professing such innocent love and care, but his mouth doing everything but. When he finally pulled away, he shifted out from underneath Yeosang, leaning back against the headboard.

 

It was the unspoken communication the two shared that prompted Yeosang to lower the same hand down towards the mattress. Seonghwa lifted his hips from the bed, a breathy  _ please, love, please  _ escaping his reddened lips. The noise he had let out when Yeosang nodded and slowly, gently, carefully pushed his saliva-coated finger inside of him was high-pitched and airy, not sounding like him at all. The soft smile beginning to form on Seonghwa’s face was what led to Yeosang pushing deeper, face flushing a lovely shade of carnation and hibiscus when he heard Seonghwa softly moan out his name. It had taken a few minutes before Yeosang entered a second finger, and in time time it took for his two fingers to properly open Seonghwa up, more stars had filled the night sky, their silvery glow lining the otherwise dark bedroom.

 

Seonghwa had grabbed Yeosang’s wrist when he felt ready enough, his eyes holding all the words his mouth - too blissed out to function - could form. Yeosang grinned in understanding, slowly removing his hand. Seonghwa whined at the loss of the feeling, but tried to focus on the way the light was hitting Yeosang - who was now reaching into the drawer of the small end table next to his bed, pulling out a small plastic bottle along with a foil square - making his features stand out against the deep blacks and blues of their room. When the silence was broken by Yeosang ripping open the foil packet, Seonghwa couldn’t stop the soft cry that left his mouth. He was quieted by a  _ patience, sunshine  _ as Yeosang rolled the condom down over himself, hissing slightly at the feeling. Before Yeosang could grab the small bottle from next to himself of the bed, Seonghwa swiped it and popped the cap off. Yeosang watched quietly as Seonghwa drizzled the contents of the bottle into his hand, and licked his dry lips at the sight. Beautiful. No matter where he was, no matter what he was doing, Seonghwa would always look like as gorgeous as sunrise.

 

The blonde boy let the bottle drop next to him, and shifted the smallest bit forward, once again taking Yeosang into his hand. The way Yeosang reacted as Seonghwa spread the bottle’s contents up and down his length was just so undeniably  _ Yeosang  _ that it made Seonghwa’s hand speed up, once again becoming impatient. When he pulled his hand away, he gazed softly at Yeosang. The boy’s breathing was labored, coming out in rough pants. A subtle smile framed Seonghwa’s face as he inched forward, lifting himself above Yeosang. The younger boy’s hands rested against Seonghwa’s hips, and he slowly began to pull the boy down on top of him. Seonghwa tensed at first, the feeling was a few months foreign to him, but he was relieved of all stress when Yeosang kissed him gently. Just like always, he was bringing Seonghwa back to reality, back to the moment.

 

Yeosang couldn’t but think about how their situation now wasn’t that different than how they were in the past. More often than not, Yeosang was wrapped in Seonghwa’s embrace, being pulled closer by the other boy. And in a way, the same was true now. Seonghwa had the same thought pattern - he always wanted to have his senses completely overtaken by Yeosang, and that had happened in the most intimate of ways. Seonghwa’s eyes had fluttered shut after Yeosang had finished pushing his hips forward, and the way he was clenching around Yeosang made the younger start to build a steady - slow - pace of gently lifting his hips up as Seonghwa pushed down against him.

 

It was when Yeosang had hit  _ that spot  _ that Seonghwa let out a broken cry, his hands roughly fisting the sheets, gathering the cloth in his clenched hands. Yeosang’s movements became rougher, whispering praises against Seonghwa’s shoulder where he had chosen to rest his lips. He could feel that Seonghwa was rapidly approaching his climax before the boy got the chance to whisper it, and Yeosang was right there with him, matching him evenly. It was the way that Seonghwa looked down at Yeosang - his eyes glassed over from the euphoric sensations, completely enamored with the boy under him - that sent the younger over the edge, punctuating his release with soft chants of Seonghwa’s name. His nails dragged down Seonghwa’s back - his glass cutting into Seonghwa’s skin, just like he craved - and was the impetus that caused Seonghwa to reach his own release, Yeosang’s name on his lips.

 

_ Stitch me up, stitch me up, _

_ Don't tear me apart. _

_ I've been stuck in a rut, _

_ Patched up in the dark. _

_ Stitch me up, stitch me up, _

_ There's pins in my heart. _

 

Silence slowly descended upon the room, filling it like substanceless smoke. Lips stayed connected as Yeosang slowly pulled out - he tried to be as gentle as possible, already seeing how drowsy and oversensitive Seonghwa had gotten. By the time Yeosang had dropped the dirtied condom into the waste bin at the foot of his bed and grabbed a few tissues to clean up the rest of the mess, Seonghwa was lying down, his eyes halfway shut. The sky was lightening, the first rays of morning light shining through the window. The pale orange hues that glowed against Seonghwa’s body only proved more to the younger that he truly was sunshine.  _ His  _ sunshine. Seonghwa was half-asleep, but that didn’t stop his body from involuntarily twitching when Yeosang ran the tissues across him to clean him off.

 

When Yeosang fell back against his pillow, hair messy and stuck up at numerous different angles, Seonghwa believed he never looked more beautiful. He was truly a flower, the most delicately stunning creations of nature. Seonghwa was exhausted, but it didn’t stop him from drawing Yeosang’s face towards his own, whispering confessions of love against the boy’s rose petal lips. Yeosang smiled as he professed his own promises of infatuation, gently convincing Seonghwa to get under the blankets. It took some convincing, but Seonghwa eventually complied, only when Yeosang slipped below the covers with him. He drew the crystalline boy closer, arms around his bare torso, and placed a soft kiss against the place on his chest where he loved resting his head. He fell asleep to the sound of Yeosang’s steady heartbeat, the feeling of Yeosang’s soft hands running through his hair. Yeosang drifted off comforted by the warmth radiating from Seonghwa, and the mumbled  _ I love you _ s that he whispered nodding off. Glass could break, and flowers could wilt. The sun could stop shining, and sweetness could be unbearable. This was all true. But it no longer mattered. Yeosang and Seonghwa were there for each other - in every sense of the phrase - and with their confessions of love, their promises of forever, it no longer felt like the world could tear them down. 

 

_ Pardon all my precious scars. _

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh dhshdjksks I really truly do hope you guys enjoyed this! I might write more in this style depending on the response to this hehe. Feedback is always and especially appreciated for this work. Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> Have a wonderful day/night, atiny!!! Never forget you're awesome xx


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